Team Castle
by DefenderofHelplessSemicolons
Summary: AU. Beckett responds when one of the Castles is in the hospital. She's family already; she just doesn't know it yet. Go Team Castle! Friendship; turns into Caskett
1. Chapter 1: Team Castle

He gets the call during a lull, after they've talked to the victim's coworkers but before they'd tracked down the boyfriend. Castle gets plenty of calls; frankly, Beckett welcomes the respite from constant Castle-chatter. She flips open her notebook again and frowns over the details.

"Esposito, any luck on that phone number?" She circles the boyfriend's name. The coworkers said he was out of town until tomorrow. Nobody knows what time he's due back and he isn't answering his phone.

Speaking of not answering. "Esposito?"

It's the look on the other detective's face that clues her in. Her eyes follow Esposito's gaze past Ryan, find Castle—

His body is rigid, one hand splayed like a claw against his leg. All she hears him say is, "When?" He listens a moment longer before lowering the phone, then turns.

"It was a stroke. They ... I have to get to the hospital."

Beckett doesn't hesitate. "Esposito, Ryan. Call me if the boyfriend turns up. Castle: car, now."

"You got it, boss," Esposito says. Ryan pats Castle's shoulder before the two detectives disappear into their car.

Castle is already seated and buckled by the time she slides in. He tells her the name of the hospital and is silent for the rest of the agonizingly long ride. Beckett knows it's twenty minutes to the hospital; it feels like an hour. The siren eats at the silence. She risks a glance at him only twice; the look on his face is too much. After all those times she's wished he would shut up, go away, and stop being Castle..._Never would've thought I'd want that back._

_ * * *_

Beckett waits at the hospital, feeling superfluous. She thumbs a magazine without seeing it until she hears a low, urgent voice at the desk.

"Alexis." The girl whirls at her name, searching the waiting room until she sees the tall woman coming toward her.

"Detective, my dad called, it's my—"

Beckett nods. "I know. I brought him." She touches Alexis' arm. "You should go see her. Room 114, down that way."

"Okay. I'm gonna—" Alexis swallows. Beckett nods at her and steps back, watches the girl walk straight-backed down the long hallway.

Esposito calls her. They've gotten through to the boyfriend; he's in the airport and will be coming to the station in a few hours. _Nothing we can do right now. The captain says might as well stay where you are._

* * *

Later, Alexis comes back for her. She's been crying. "Dad said to bring you. I mean, if you want to come."

"Thank you," Beckett says softly. She follows Alexis to room 114. Her first glance is for Martha, lively eyes closed, heartbeat pumping through the monitors. Her second is for Castle.

Castle is slumped in a chair at the side of the bed. He looks exhausted. He takes her aside and tells her in a low voice about the stroke, about the housecleaning service discovering her that afternoon while Alexis was at school and he was out with Beckett, how the doctors are keeping her in the stroke ward.

"She hasn't regained consciousness." He rakes a hand through his hair and rubs at his forehead, looking ten years older. "We're holding out hopes that she'll remember she has that rehearsal on Wednesday and decide to wake up, but it's not looking good."

"I'm sorry," she says automatically.

"Thanks." He looks at her—through her—for a moment and then says, "I'm just gonna sit with her for a while."

Alexis comes to stand beside her father. "Dad, you should eat something. We've been here for hours and I can hear your stomach complaining."

"Not hungry."

Alexis looks quietly distressed. "But you need to eat, Dad."

"I'm not hungry right now, sweetheart. Maybe later, okay?" He tries a smile.

Beckett decides to step in. "I could go for a snack, Alexis. Come with me?"

The girl follows her out with a few backward looks. Beckett studies her sideways as they walk down antiseptic hallways. "How are you doing?"

"Not good," Alexis answers honestly. "I mean, yesterday Gram was healthy, happy, and generally outrageous like normal. Right now—I mean, it doesn't even look like her lying in that bed." She looks up at Beckett guiltily. "Does that sound weird?"

"No, not at all." A memory of the funeral; seeing her mother's face for the last time. "Not at all."

"Mom isn't answering her phone either. I've called her like fifty times. I mean, I know Gram is her ex-mother-in-law, or something, but you'd think she'd care enough to call me back."

"I'm sure she will. She's probably just ... busy."

They pick out a few things in the cafeteria and start trudging back.

"I wish Mom was here," Alexis continues. "Not that she would be able to help much, but my dad needs ... he needs someone to make him eat. I'm the daughter, he doesn't have to listen to me." She chews her lip. "God, he has that thing tomorrow with his publisher. I have to call her. And the theater will need to know about Gram, for the understudy—"

"Alexis." Beckett curls her fingers around the girl's hand and pulls her to a stop. "I want to make sure you understand something. You aren't alone. Okay?"

A blank stare.

"When I was only a few years older than you, I had to take care of my dad after Mom died. Both of us could barely function. It was hard at first, worse when he started drinking a lot more. Every day, I had to make sure he ate, that we paid our bills, that all the casserole dishes got cleaned and returned. People would offer to come clean or take me shopping or whatever they thought would help. The only thing I let them do was bring us food. Do you know why?"

Alexis shakes her head.

"Because then they could leave it at the door, and they wouldn't have to see my dad in his bathrobe surrounded by bottles that I couldn't wrestle away from him, or see me having a breakdown because we got another piece of mail addressed to Johanna Beckett. I didn't want them to see how much we needed help. But when I look back, I see how badly I hurt our relatives and friends by not letting them help me and grieve with me.. And I hurt myself, too, because I couldn't do it all by myself." She squeezes the girl's hand. "You're allowed to be afraid, and to be sad, and to need someone to help. Don't try to take care of everything on your own, okay? I'll do whatever I can to help."

Alexis sniffs and blinks. "Thank you," she starts to say before her face crumples. Beckett pulls her into the hug she clearly needs and lets the hospital's traffic pass them by for a few minutes.

Stroking the red head buried in her shoulder, Beckett gently says, "We should check on your dad."

"Yeah." Alexis pulls back to scrub at her face, then blows out a sigh. "Thank you, Detective."

Beckett smiles back. "Please. It's Kate."

"Kate." Alexis grins briefly. "Welcome to Team Castle."

* * *

The other two members of Team Castle are in the exact spots Beckett and Alexis left them in. Martha hasn't stirred; Castle is glued to the chair. Alexis pulls her vibrating phone out of a pocket before they enter.

"It's my mom."

Beckett holds out a hand for the sandwiches. "I've got him," she says. Alexis flashes her a grateful, dimpled smile, looking exactly like her father, and Beckett feels her heart melt. _Considering how much it melted in the hallway earlier, that's quite a lot of melting._

"Castle. Time to eat. We've got tuna or ham and cheese." She holds out a sandwich, but he hasn't looked at her yet. "Castle?"

"It was so quick," he mumbles.

She sets the sandwiches down. He looks worse, actually. For the first time she realizes that he's only ever had one parent. He's older than she was when she lost her mom, but all the implications of his mother's condition have shaken him more than she thought. Beckett moves to crouch by his chair. "Are you okay?"

He ignores the question. "They keep asking me if I've observed any warning signs. I keep telling them I didn't see any, I didn't know. I should've made sure, I should've talked to her about her blood pressure, her alcohol consumption, exercising—"

She covers his clasped hands with one of hers. "Castle. Rick. Look at me. The doctors will know more later, after the results come back. Right?"

He nods.

"But I can tell you right now: there was nothing you could have done. If you'd been home, you might have gotten her to the hospital more quickly, but the doctors think the cleaners discovered her pretty soon after it happened." She locks eyes with him. "It's not your fault, Rick."

Castle frowns. "I didn't say it was."

"No, but you were thinking it."

"I wasn't."

"Were too." She smiles. "I know you too well."

His lips quirk a little. Not really a smile, but almost. "Since you used the subjunctive mood there, Detective, I'd have to agree that you do. I am a sucker for the subjunctive when used correctly." He takes a deep breath. "So. All right. It's not my fault."

"Uh-huh," she prompts, encouraged by his surrender.

"All I can think about is, what's next? How do we care for her? Can we take her home ever, or does she need to be in a place with proper care? What if she has permanent damage? What if..." He swallows. "What if she never wakes up?"

Beckett tips her head, considering his words and what's behind them. "Those are good questions. The doctors will be able to address them. But I can tell you something else."

He looks at her.

"What's important is that she knew you loved her," she says. It's maudlin, but it's true. "You probably didn't always get along; maybe she thought you had odd friends, maybe she came home singing show tunes at inappropriate hours of the night—"

There, a smile.

"—but you loved her and she knew that. Whether or not you think you said it enough, you did enough things to show it. Maybe she wasn't a mystery writer, but she had the evidence, Castle, and you know she was smart enough to figure it out."

His eyes are very blue at this close range, especially when fixed on her so closely. She can see the stubble on his jaw and the tiredness in every line of his body. She's uncomfortable but she won't move until she gets an acknowledgement.

"You're right," he says at last. "She has the evidence. You know, that actually does help me feel a little better."

"Food will help too." Beckett stands up and pulls on his hand. "Up, Castle. We brought sandwiches."

"Please tell me they had turkey."

"Sorry." She sorts through the greasy packets. "Ham or tuna. Or you can have my salad."

He makes a face. "Tuna." But after he takes it from her, he turns to look at Martha for a long moment, sandwich forgotten in his hand.

"Castle."

She steps closer, and like his daughter he leans into her. Beckett holds him tightly, one hand on the back of his neck. Neither of them say anything.

Eventually Alexis comes back in. They sit down to eat their cafeteria food. Esposito calls. The boyfriend showed up; Esposito and Ryan are going to interrogate him, and does Beckett want in?

She doesn't, but duty calls, as well as the Chinese takeout on the corner. Beckett promises to return as soon as possible and to bring real food. She accepts a fierce hug from little Castle and a kiss on the cheek from big Castle. Then Beckett gets in her squad car and cries for thirty seconds, wipes carefully under her eyes, and goes back to the precinct.

"All right, let's make this fast," she says to Ryan and Esposito. "I've gotta get back."

_Author note: I've read fanfic for years and written many stories in my head, but this is the first I've ever published. I don't plan to make this a regular thing. I just needed to write something therapeutic. My grandmother died recently (though not from a stroke; please let me know if any of the details are incorrect) and writing this helped me feel better. I don't have a Beckett in my life; I have a whole bunch of them. Now if I could just get better at accepting their help... _


	2. Chapter 2: Normal Things

Somebody's finished off the communal bottle of ibuprofen in the precinct kitchen. Beckett rubs her throbbing temples and tries to focus on the case file she's read four times already. She's running on nerves and too many cups of bad coffee, most of her evenings given up for hospital visits or excursions to find food for the Castles.

It's been two weeks since the stroke. Rick barely leaves Martha's side. She's getting better, but slowly; the hospital has her in physical therapy and speech therapy. Everyone's frustrated.

A shadow falls across her desk. Karpowski says, "Someone's here to see you." Behind her is Alexis, clutching a purse and looking unsure of herself.

"Hey," Beckett says, surprised. "Something wrong?"

"No," Alexis says. "I just came to give you this. You left it at the hospital." She pulls a thick book out of her purse and hands it over.

Beckett fingers the worn cover. It's a collection of Arthur Miller plays, a favorite she's kept since college. She'd brought it last night in hopes that Martha might like it if they read a play to her. Beckett and Alexis had taken turns doing the character voices—quietly, because Castle was napping in a nearby bed. Martha smiled throughout most of it. They'd had fun, in the moments they could forget they were in a hospital.

"Why don't you hang onto it for me," Beckett says, holding the book out. "Maybe we'll do another reading next week."

Alexis smiles shyly. "Really? That'd be cool."

The youngest Castle hasn't been smiling much lately. The girl has already had to grow up too quickly, given her parental situation. Add a grandmother's serious illness to that and Alexis is on track for an eventual implosion.

"Want to sit down?"

"Sure." Alexis sinks into the chair her father uses.

"How are you doing?" Beckett asks.

Alexis shrugs. "Okay, I guess. We pretty much live at the hospital. So that's kind of weird."

"Still haven't been able to convince your dad the beds are more comfortable at home?"

"He claims he can sleep anywhere. Personally, I think it's too noisy. I don't know how anyone sleeps in hospitals. Though Dad says it helps to be on happy drugs."

"Oh, it does." _Let's see if she'll laugh. _"This one case, I got shot. Suspect got a little trigger-happy and I was standing in the wrong place. Nothing major, but they gave me some truly excellent meds. It was like a vacation. All I did was sleep for two days." The detective refrains from mentioning she'd been so obsessed with solving her mother's case that the hospital had actually kept her for exhaustion and dehydration.

Alexis chuckles. _There we go. Beckett: 1, hospital: 0. _

"You know, it has been sort of like a vacation for us, because the hospital's so completely different from our normal life. Except there's a distinct lack of spas and massages, and umbrella drinks for Dad."

That has the ring of a classic Castle-ism. Beckett grins. "Do you have to keep up with school, or are they going easy on you?"

"They tried. I told them no." _And there's that Castle stubbornness._ "I want to have classes and homework. It keeps my mind busy."

Beckett toys with her coffee mug and says, "Are the other kids treating you okay?"

"I guess, yeah. Everyone's really nice to me. I get a lot of hugs. Couldn't go anywhere last week without getting ambushed by a hugger. They just appear from nowhere, like ninjas."

Beckett has been watching Alexis' face closely. She spots the flash of quickly-hidden emotion before that answer, notes the humor used to deflect attention. A good homicide detective would suspect something at this point. Beckett only needs to remember the way her classmates related to her in her sophomore year to know for certain.

"It's weird, isn't it? The attention. People treat you differently, like you're some kind of celebrity. Even your friends do sometimes." Granted, Beckett isn't the daughter of an actual celebrity like Alexis is, but the particulars of her mother's murder had held enough shock value to intrigue what seemed like the entire university. "Sometimes you're grateful that people care. Sometimes you want them to treat you like nothing's happened."

"Yeah," Alexis says fervently. "Or you feel like screaming if someone asks you one more time if you're all right."

"Hey, screaming can be good." Beckett leans forward with a conspiratorial air. "You know, we have a nice little padded holding cell in back where we put the loud ones. I could let you have some time in there for, say, a quarter."

Alexis laughs for a little too long. _She needs to de-stress, do some normal things away from the hospital._ "How much time?"

"Ten minutes."

"Two quarters and I get half an hour."

"A dollar for forty-five minutes. But you get a complimentary straitjacket."

Alexis pulls a tiny coin bag from her purse and peers into it. "How about seventy-three cents?"

Beckett sighs and holds out a hand. "Done. You drive a hard bargain, Castle."

Karpowski's staring as they shake hands, but at least Alexis is laughing again. _Beckett: 2, hospital: 0._

"Hey," Beckett says casually. "How would you feel about a movie night? Get out of the hospital for a bit, have some girl time?"

Alexis is clearly caught off-guard, though she looks shyly enthusiastic. "Sure! Um. Could we maybe watch a movie at home instead of going out?"

_She'd feel guilty if she wasn't at the hospital or at home. It's too early for going out. _"Sure, whatever you want. How about Friday night? Say around 7?"

"That sounds great. Thanks, Detective."

"Kate."

"Right! I forgot."

A tired-looking Ryan is hovering in the background with a file. Beckett is pretty sure she sees a word balloon proclaiming "URGENT" above his head. She stands, collecting her own file, and offers her visitor a smile. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Great. Until tomorrow!"

Ryan joins her as Alexis walks away. "Cute kid," he says. "I still don't get how she's related to Castle." He rubs the bridge of his nose, then pulls a few pills from his pocket and dry-swallows them. "Got a lead. Last known contact for the vic."

Beckett glances at his file and memorizes the address. "All right, find Esposito and let's check it out. And Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"You owe the precinct a bottle of ibuprofen."

* * *

Alexis is adorably awkward when she answers the door; Beckett has to correct "Detective" with "Kate" again. Rick's actually at home for once, holed up in his office with the door shut. Alexis informs her that he's doing research on at-home palliative care and has been warned not to intrude upon girl time.

"Who's on deck?" Beckett asks, settling on the couch as Alexis retrieves the popcorn from the microwave.

"Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy." Alexis looks over at her. "Do you like Pride and Prejudice? I have plenty of other things we can watch if you think stuff like that is stupid."

It's not her favorite genre or era, but Beckett can appreciate witty repartee. She selects a diet soda from the small assortment on the coffee table. "Sounds fine to me. Why would I think it's stupid?"

Alexis frowns as she fiddles with the remote. "I don't know. I guess I wasn't sure if you like chick flicks."

"Generally I find the ones with corsets more well-written."

"Ha. That's a good rule. Okay, here we go."

As the movie begins, Alexis remarks ruefully, "Gram refuses to watch this. She says you can't top the six-hour BBC version. I love the BBC one, but I always try to convince her that the cinematography and lighting in the movie are worth the cuts in the script. She won't change her mind, though."

Beckett smirks and snatches a handful of popcorn. "I see her point, but she doesn't know what she's missing. Darcy in this one is pretty hot." She's pleased to get another giggle. _Beckett: 3. Hospital: losing badly._

Halfway into the movie, her phone rings. It's Ryan. They tracked down the vic's last-known contact, under an assumed name. The guy had gone off the grid years ago, according to records; the captain had concluded they were at a standstill and sent Beckett's team home for the night.

"I played a hunch, though," says Ryan. Esposito protests in the background. "Fine, _we_ played a hunch. Talked to that guy at the eco organization a second time, asked him a few pointed questions about his coworker. Took us all evening to track our boy down, but we picked him up. We'll be at the precinct in about thirty minutes. Detective Green's waiting for us."

The vic's twin sister went missing a few weeks before; they've been working closely with Green's team from Missing Persons. It's a long shot, but the twin sister might still be alive.

"Got it. See you at the precinct. Good work," she adds before hanging up and turning to Alexis, who's already anticipated what she's going to say.

"You have a case," she says, hitting stop on the remote. "It's okay, I need to study anyway."

Beckett stands and shrugs into her jacket. "I'm so sorry, Alexis. I was enjoying myself. I wish I could stay."

Alexis gathers up the popcorn bowl and takes it to the kitchen. Her voice is too cheerful when she says, "You don't have to apologize. I know you've got a busy schedule."

Beckett snags her arm as she starts back for the empty soda cans. Alexis is a little teary-eyed, doesn't want to look at her. "Hey. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'm off next weekend, so we can do something, no calls from work."

"But Gram—"

"—would tell you to stop spending every minute at the hospital, and to go get a manicure or go to a play," Beckett finishes. "It's okay to do something normal every once in a while and not think about speech therapy and doctors."

"You think so?"

She remembers days of Derek Storm reading marathons and a friend who kept dragging her out to walk in Riverside Park. "I know so."

Castles don't surrender easily. "You don't have a lot of free time, Kate. You shouldn't spend it all with us."

"It's no trouble." Beckett is firm. "Next weekend. You and me. Something fun."

After a long moment of grave consideration and a bit of sniffling, Alexis finally gives in. "Okay. I'd really like that," she says, looking up at the detective.

_Oh no, not the puppy-dog eyes._ Beckett can't resist them. She wraps Alexis in a hug, then presses a kiss to her forehead. "Good luck with studying."

"Good luck with...detecting."

Grinning, Beckett shoos her up the stairs and watches her disappear into her room. She's about ready to leave when she notices Castle. He's leaning against the doorframe of his office.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he says, coming forward. "You're really good with her."

"She's a great kid, Castle. Unlike you."

A smile flickers around his lips. "Well, she's got plenty of time to go tragically wrong. She is young, after all."

"I'm hoping that me spending some time with her will decrease that possibility."

"You can try to steal my daughter all you want, Detective. I want you to know"—he shakes a finger at her—"that I fully support your initiative. Seriously, I want to thank you for spending so much time with her."

"It's no trouble," Beckett repeats. She doesn't like how fluttery her stomach gets when he does that thing with the seriousness.

He just looks at her like he's tallying up the hours she's spent with them over the past few weeks. She turns away, uncomfortable with math at the moment. "I've gotta go, Castle. Need to get to the precinct."

Castle falls into step beside her. "You know, it means a lot to Alexis that you want to spend time with her. Mother's been her main source of maternal interaction."

They're at the door but he's still talking. And he's standing a lot closer. "It's been an incredibly hard few weeks, and I've been so busy dealing with doctors and therapists. She just needed someone to let her be a kid and tell her things were going to be all right. And you were that someone."

She opens her mouth but he has one more thing to say. "I'm not sure we would've made it this far without you. I can't thank you enough." He does this little half-shrug and somehow looks honest, adorably boyish, and ridiculously flirty at the same time.

When he leans in to kiss her goodnight, she lets him. Later, she tells herself it was only because he needed it.

_Author note: I live a day's drive from the hospital. Didn't stop me from feeling vaguely guilty for watching TV, going out with friends these last few weeks, or not calling every hour. Thus: more writing therapy._

_Also, I wasn't planning to continue this story, but Beckett's standing in a corner of my brain holding a "Team Castle" sign and looking rather impatient. Let's not call this a series; I'm just going to write until Beckett stops looming over me. (She's kinda tall.)_


	3. Chapter 3: Bodyguards and Biggest Fans

It's spring in New York City and the murder rate's increasing. Beckett's wrapping up paperwork on yet another case when she gets a text.

_What's the best way to hide a body?_

She crinkles up the half-empty bag of gummy bears and drops it in a drawer as she ponders the question. She taps out, _Depends. Who do you want to murder, Castle? _and goes to file the paperwork.

When she gets back, her phone says, _Who says I want to murder someone? It could be for my novel._

_It's you,_ she sends. After a few moments she follows up with, _Which doctor is it this time? Short Stuff or Prematurely Balding? _Those are his nicknames, not hers, but she's not going to bother typing out their actual names.

There's a pause, during which she reads an email about employee break policy. Her phone vibrates. _Slappy._

Beckett winces. "Slappy" is Dr. Yen, the speech-language pathologist who's been working with Martha. Rick took an immediate dislike to him. He thinks the SLP treats Martha like she's a child. Beckett think he's overreacting a bit. Nothing can be too good for Rick Castle's mother. Right now most things aren't.

_I'm due for a lunch break. How about I swing by the hospital with some food?_

_Already ate,_ he responds. _How about coffee instead?_

Coffee sounds good. Seeing him—seeing _them_ sounds good. She's been too busy the last week to drop by. Beckett sends an acknowledgement, scoops up her keys and jacket, and nods goodbye to Esposito and Ryan. They nod back and return to talking baseball. She feels a pang; her Mets are in spring training right now, and she hasn't had time to check up on them.

Before she reaches the door, the captain appears from somewhere.

"Out for lunch, Beckett?" he asks.

"Uh, yes ... going to the hospital, actually." She doesn't know why she feels the need to tell him. Maybe it's because she's been taking longer lunch breaks this month to see the Castles, and that email felt like it was targeted at her.

But Montgomery smiles a little—as much as Montgomery ever smiles—says, "Good work. Keep it up, Detective," and disappears back into his lair.

Beckett blinks and goes to get her car.

* * *

She finds the way to outpatient. Alexis told her Rick takes Martha to the hospital a few times per week now for speech and physical therapy. Beckett suspects being at home is therapeutic as well.

She pauses outside the waiting room. A few kids are playing quietly in a corner under a woman's watchful eye_. _Rick's sprawled in a chair across the room, glaring at nothing.

"Hey," she says when he looks up. "You're scaring the children."

He forces a smile. "My goal in life."

Beckett hands him a cup of the flavored milk he tries to pass off as coffee and sits down. "You look like you've been here a while."

He sips at his concoction. "A little too long. Mother'd better be able to recite the alphabet backwards when she comes back."

Beckett's fingers itch, like maybe they want to rub the pent-up anger from his shoulders. She keeps a firm hold on her cup. "Alexis says she's doing surprisingly well."

"She did? Who told her that?"

"Dr. Yen."

"Huh. Did he give her a gold star too?"

"Castle," Beckett reproves him. "He's just doing his job and being patient."

"Hell, give me an hour; I could find three people who are five times as good and ten times less condescending, _and_ who would see her at home."

"Castle. She likes going out, even if it is to here. Don't take that away from her. Besides, she seems to like Dr. Yen."

Rick's scowling again. Beckett represses a sigh and gets up to throw away her cup. She has a hard time dealing with him when he's like this. She tries to cut him some slack, because he's been surprisingly mature under a great deal of stress, but when he gets this crabby there's not much to do but ride it out.

She pauses at the wastebasket. There are two teenage girls peering around the corner. Her head swivels as they make a beeline past her ...

... right to Castle.

"Richard Castle?" the bottle blonde says. "We heard your mom's, like, in the hospital, and we just wanted to come down here and say how sorry we are."

Rick is looking bemused. "Thank you."

Emboldened by his response, the blonde continues, "We made you some cards and a little care package with some cookies and stuff." She nudges the brunette. "Mel, give him the stuff."

"Oh! Right!" says the brunette. She pushes a large shoebox at Rick.

"That's very, uh, thoughtful of you."

"I'm Tanya, and this is Melanie," the blonde chirps. "We're your biggest fans, right, Mel? Rook is so hot! He's totally based on you, isn't he? What'd you do to get in the mindset for writing those super-hot sex scenes?"

Beckett's had about enough.

"Excuse me," she says, striding toward them. Two heads turn to look up at her.

Melanie whispers, "Omigawd, Tanya, it's totally Nikki Heat!"

"Omigawd!" says Tanya. "We're totally your biggest fans! Can I have your autograph?"

Beckett folds her arms. "I don't generally give out autographs. And I'm sorry, but I need to ask you to leave."

"But he hasn't opened our package yet!"

Rick starts to say something. Beckett holds up a hand and he subsides. "While Mr. Castle appreciates your ... enthusiasm, I have to ask that you respect his privacy at this time. I'm sure you understand."

Tanya shoots him a coy glance. "Oh, we like privacy too."

Rick clears his throat. Beckett rolls her eyes briefly. "Then we won't have a problem. The exit is that way, ladies." She points, in case they're as dense as they seem.

But Tanya's smart enough to realize that Beckett is the enemy. "This is a public place. We can stay if we want." She looks at Castle again. Technically Tanya is correct, but the detective's not having any of it. Beckett steps between the girls and Castle and puts her hands on her hips, incidentally exposing her badge and holster.

"I'd really rather not call security," Beckett says evenly. "It'd be more fun to handcuff you myself." She looks down at Tanya ("down" being a considerable distance). The blonde's bristling like a tiny lapdog. Beckett wants to laugh, but it would ruin the moment.

Melanie's tugging on her friend's arm and looking mortified. "Come on, Tan," she says. "Let's get out of here."

"Fine. But we're only leaving because we want to leave," Tanya spits. Beckett keeps staring her down until the two disappear beyond the corner. After a moment, she turns back to Rick.

Who's laughing silently, almost doubled over in his chair. Beckett gives in and chuckles too.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that, Castle."

"Oh, I did. I surely did. Wow." He wipes his eyes.

"That sort of thing happen often?" Beckett wonders how Tanya and Melanie tracked him here.

"Not in a hospital, no. I'll tell you this: fangirls, God bless 'em, are unstoppable. And have friends in many places, and far, _far_ too much time on their hands."

Beckett grunts. "Maybe you should switch SLPs after all."

Rick gets to his feet, takes her hands, and plants a quick celebratory kiss on her right there in front of everyone. "That, my dear detective bodyguard, is exactly what I've been saying all along."

Beckett stares at him. _Why does he keep doing that? _"Castle—" she begins, but Martha's being wheeled out to them. As Dr. Slappy starts to medi-babble at Rick, Martha beckons her closer with her good hand. Beckett leans down.

"Saw that," Martha slurs.

Oh, crap.

_Author's note: Poor Castle; the fangirls are everywhere. Good thing he's got Nikki Heat I MEAN BECKETT to watch his back._


	4. Chapter 4: Boundaries

"Tell me why that would be a good idea, again?"

"Because this animal is evidence!"

Beckett pinches the bridge of her nose. "Castle. We can dust it for DNA right here. There's no need to call Mounted and get them to loan us a trailer."

"C'mon, just think about it," he insists. "Parading a pony through the precinct and taking it over to CSU? How great would that be?!"

Beckett rolls her eyes and glances beseechingly at Esposito, who's already pulling out his phone to call a buddy at CSU. The equine whuffs quietly and noses at Ryan's pockets. Ryan sneezes and Castle chuckles.

Watching her friend's face, Beckett checks her mental calendar. It's been half a year since that phone call. Months of hospital visits, therapists, and a rapid procession of palliative caretakers. She's finally gotten him to come back on cases with her, more for Martha's sake than for his. She hasn't missed him, exactly; she's seen more of him these last six months than she had when he'd been shadowing her. A return to routine is what they both need. For him, it's a chance to get out of the house, jumpstart the novel he'd laid aside, have stories to tell Martha when he gets home.

For her, it means listening to Lanie and reclaiming some of her time (_You still paying rent on that apartment? 'Cause you don't live there no more_), hoping that the palliative flavor of the month will be able to handle Castle.

Martha's not the problem. Martha's a trooper. And it's not really Rick who's the issue, although he's run off at least three caretakers and even Alexis is looking exasperated with him these days.

She hears Lanie's dry voice in her head again. _Who do you think you're fooling? Girl, you either make a move on his hot oblivious ass or you start drawing boundaries. You ain't his girlfriend and you sure as hell are not his wife. Doesn't matter how much you like his family—if you don't play a little hard to get, one of these days you're gonna end up cleaning his kitchen while he leaves for a date with a model. Now can we shut the hell up about Richard Castle and talk about shoes for five minutes?_

"Ahmed from CSU's on his way," Esposito tells her. "He says he is excited about seeing, quote, 'horsies,' unquote."

"It's a pony," Castle corrects him. "It's not big enough to be a horse."

"You gonna adopt it?" Ryan asks, rubbing at his nose.

Beckett's only half-listening to their banter as she examines the victim and the bloody horse. Mentally, she's ticking through the evidence of a struggle and making plans to question persons of interest, namely the wife. The remaining brainpower is given to watching Castle.

He looks a little older when his features aren't animated by crime scene enthusiasm or when he isn't flirting with her. In quiet moments she catches a tired expression lurking in his eyes, and his motormouth is more often pressed in a straight line. It's better to get him up and moving, prompt him to start spinning his wild stories. She even caught him going in with the terrible two on a bet regarding two detectives in a neighboring precinct's special unit. _I'm putting my money on the woman making the first move,_ he'd said as she walked up. _She looks like Beckett. _

She'd teased him about it for a few days. Mostly Beckett's just happy to see him going back to his devilish ways. It has nothing to do with the fact that somehow she's become one of the only people in his life who can make him smile and mean it.

_Oh, honey._

_Shut up, Lanie,_ she thinks, before she realizes she's talking to someone who's not even there.

Castle looks happy right now. He's holding the pony's bridle as the CSU guy starts brushing and sampling the docile animal's coat.

"I always wanted a pony," he explains to her when she walks over. She just shakes her head at him, amused. "Hey," he continues, lowering his voice a little. "You coming over tonight?"

Tonight is Tuesday. She reads to Martha every Tuesday when Castle is at his poker game and Alexis has book club. She couldn't make it the last two weeks, and she has mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it's been good to have some time to herself after closing a case. On the other hand, Martha is excellent company.

"I'll try to make it," she says.

"Glad to hear it," he says, and gives her a warm look. Despite herself, she notices how his eyes crinkle at the corners. She's a detective; she's trained to notice details. Sometimes she wishes she could turn that off.

"Besides," he continues, "you'll get to meet Olga."

"'Olga'?"

Ryan pokes his head around the horse. "Who's Olga?"

"Sounds like a supermodel. Nice going, bro. She have a sister?" Esposito quips.

Castle gives them an old-fashioned look. "Olga is Mother's new caretaker. We like her a lot, much more than the last one. She's quite funny. And very efficient, in a Nordic sort of way."

Esposito cocks an eyebrow. "But is she single?"

The CSU guy beckons her over. "Mr. Ed here has some answers for us."

Beckett shakes her head again as she moves around the pony. "This is gonna be good."

"The pony's results or Olga?" Castle asks.

"Both."

* * *

Beckett's knock on the door is answered by Alexis.

"Kate!" she exclaims cheerfully. "Dad wasn't sure you were coming."

"No, I was sure," Castle calls from somewhere. "Did I not say I was sure?"

Alexis rolls her eyes. "Come on in."

"I'm sorry, I'm a little early," Beckett said, following the girl inside. Usually she arrives at 6:30; it's 6:00. "We wrapped up sooner than I thought. Your dad left when I started doing paperwork."

"You know Dad. Easily bored," Alexis says.

Beckett's about to respond when Castle emerges from the bedroom, ushering a small blonde woman in front of him. "Kate, this is Olga Rodriguez," he announces proudly. "Olga, this is Kate. I mean, Beckett. I mean, Detective Beckett."

Beckett stifles a chuckle and extends a hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Rodriguez. Rick here has been extolling your virtues to the entire precinct."

Olga smiles and grips her hand. "It's Olga. And please, feel free to clear the air and make a joke, I've heard them all before. My mom's German, my stepdad's Hispanic." She turns to Castle. "You, sir, are _not_ invited to make jokes."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not," the caretaker says firmly. Over Castle's protest, Beckett laughs. She likes the woman's general air of competence. No doubt she can handle Castle. Martha, too.

After Olga goes home, Beckett leaves the two Castles bickering about whether to carpool or take separate taxis and pokes her head into Martha's room.

"Hi, Martha."

The older woman's eyes sparkle. "Kate." Speech therapy has been helping, though each word is still labored.

Beckett waves _Waiting for Godot_ at her. "_Godot_, as you requested." She settles into the easy chair near Martha's bed and stretches her long legs out. "I'm looking forward to this. Is it one of your favorites?"

"Course, dear. Classic."

Beckett leans back into the chair and watches as Martha lies back, still wearing a lopsided smile. It doesn't smell like Castle in here any more. Doesn't look like it, either; he'd repainted, swapped the furnishings, and moved upstairs as soon as Martha was released from the hospital. Every effort has been made to make this space comfortable and bright. Beckett likes being here, but she can leave any time she wants. Maybe that's why she keeps coming back to Martha.

"Beckett," Martha says.

"Yes?"

Martha points with her eyes. Beckett looks down at the cover and laughs. "Right. Samuel Beckett. No relation that I know of."

"Pity."

"I know!"

Later, she's reciting one of Vladimir's line from memory and happens to glance up. Rick's standing in the hallway, watching his mother. Then his gaze shifts to her. She feels a pulse go through her and drops her eyes to the page, momentarily losing her place.

It's 8:30 and Martha's tiring; she interjects, "Thank you, dear." Beckett closes the book, squeezes Martha's hand, promises to come back next week if work allows. Then she turns the lights off and closes the door behind her.

Rick's waiting for her, of course. _Poker game must've ended early. Or maybe he left early. He shouldn't do that; he should be out having fun._

_... And I'm not going to ask him or nag him. Not going to._

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he says, looking serious as she approaches him.

"And what would that be, Castle?"

"Oh, I think you know what I mean." He takes a few steps toward her. "You drop everything to help us after Mother was hospitalized. You spend every spare moment for two weeks at a hospital on top of a full caseload. You come over for movie night with Alexis on weekends. You make sure I'm eating and getting out of the house."

_He's not supposed to realize that. _She freezes as he takes another step toward her and stops, all up in her personal space, putting his hands on her waist and drawing her closer.

"You're not a coworker, Kate. You are far, far more than that."

Her mind is betraying her, spinning fantasies. There's no outcome to this conversation in which one of them doesn't haul the other against the wall and they make out like teenagers.

"You are not just a friend. We crossed that line long ago."

She isn't ready for this, Beckett tells herself. She needs boundaries; she needs to reclaim her life; she's not ready to be whatever they are now—a not-quite-girlfriend whom he kisses in odd moments, flirts with in front of other cops, and plays at seducing. She's only here because she's a friend of the entire family, because all of them need her, not just him, and she will not let him pull her back in.

"You," he says, "are a member...of..."

She blurts desperately, like a cheerleader, "Team Castle!"

"What?"

"Team... Castle?"

After an explosion of laughter that his mother no doubt hears, Castle takes to teasing her about it every spare moment for a week straight. She's just happy to have escaped.

She is happy, isn't she?

_Author's note: This chapter was hard to write, for some reason, especially the ending. Beckett and Castle kept necking, which as you can imagine interfered with the writing a teeny bit. I think only two more installments are left in the series, but we'll see._


	5. Chapter 5: Surface

It's Tuesday again and Castle will not go away. Which, since they're at his apartment, he is not obligated to do, but she wishes he would anyway.

He's been especially himself today. Got in the way at the crime scene. Sat in her chair. Asked inappropriate questions in interrogation. Took the last donut. Wheedled the captain into letting her go early, so now she's stuck at his apartment for an extra hour with a headache and no escape.

"Kate, seriously, have some fruit. Granola bars and donuts do not a good diet make. Alexis is always telling me that the food pyramid is proportionally wrong, and that we need to eat a lot more fruit." He waves a banana at her and keeps jabbering. "Did I ever tell you about the time I ate thirty Ding-Dongs—"

"You know, you didn't leave me much time for lunch today, what with that stunt you pulled with Esposito's car."

"It was just a little research for a chase scene!" he protests. "Aw, come on, it was funny. And I said I'd pay for the damage." When she doesn't answer, he pouts a little.

Beckett massages her temples. She thinks longingly of home, where Thai leftovers await her in the fridge, and more importantly where she doesn't have to ride herd on a twelve-year-old.

"Hey. You okay?" Rick asks, putting the banana down. "You look tired. Do you need to go home?"

She forces out something resembling a smile. "Martha's going to be ready for me in a few minutes. And I'm fine."

"Good. I'm glad you're here."

His smile is all the apology she's going to get, but her traitorous stomach still flip-flops. _Where else would I be_, she wants to ask, half-exasperated.

Since their little talk a few weeks ago, Castle's been overly conscientious about what he calls "KB QT." Which is ridiculous; he gets plenty of quality time bounding around the city at her heels during the day. But he's trying to separate work time and free time, make sure they hang out. The trouble is that she's not sure how much of her free time she wants to give him. Lately his immature qualities have been grating on her.

Olga emerges from Martha's room. "She's all set for the night. I'm heading home. Mr. Castle, before I go, we need to talk about ..."

Beckett takes that as her cue to head toward Martha's room. She exchanges a smile and a wave with Alexis, who's coming down the stairs, then closes the bedroom door and lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

Martha's restless today. Her color's a little off, her good hand fretful on the coverlet.

"Hi, Martha, how's it going?"

The older woman gives her a strained smile. "Less said, the better."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Beckett takes her usual seat. "Do you want to keep going with Mamet tonight?"

Martha shrugs with an eyebrow. Beckett takes that for as a yes for now and flips the book open. They're half a page past where they stopped last week when there's a commotion out in the main room. A woman's voice—a different timbre than Alexis or Olga. In a few minutes it starts moving down the hall toward them.

Martha mumbles something extremely profane right before the door swings open.

"Martha!!" Meredith exclaims over a huge bouquet. "It's been ages!"

"Mm-hm," says Martha.

Meredith notices the cop in the corner. "And Rick's, uh, lady friend from the police—so nice to see you again."

"Likewise," Beckett says diffidently.

Meredith comes over to the bed and says to Martha, "You must be suffering so much, I can't imagine! You're so brave!" And to Beckett: "Ricky's really torn up about this. His own mother having a stroke and having to keep staying here? It's just horrible." Back to Martha: "I brought you some pansies because I remember how much you used to love them! I'm just going to leave them here on the table, okay?"

Beckett's lips compress. "She can hear you, you know. You don't have to shout."

Meredith appears briefly embarrassed, lifts a hand to her mouth. "Oh. But isn't she ... ?"

"She can understand you. She just has trouble speaking."

Martha's looking sardonic and furious all at once. Beckett diplomatically says, "Why don't we go put those in water," and escorts Meredith out.

In the living room, the two Castles have their heads together and are talking quickly in low voices. They straighten as the two women emerge.

"Aw, look at you two," Meredith says. "I've missed you so much! Let's go do something. I'm not tired at all." It's true; she looks remarkably energetic for a woman who's just flown across the country on (apparently) the spur of the moment.

"Mom, I have book club tonight."

"Surely you can skip that ... What's with the look?"

"It's just kind of a surprise to see you."

"Can't I hop on over for the weekend every now and then? You're happy to see me, aren't you?"

Alexis sighs. "Mom. It's not that we aren't glad you're here, but ... why _are_ you here?"

"To come pay my respects to your grandmother, of course. She was my mother-in-law for some time, after all. And I'm here to support you. By shopping. Very therapeutic."

Beckett's been going through the kitchen cabinets, bouquet in hand. She can't remember ever having seen a vase in here before. Rick comes over and starts looking too.

"You didn't know she was coming?" Beckett asks quietly.

"She doesn't usually call first," he says, digging through a cupboard. "Keeps life interesting. Alexis says she called a week ago, but they just talked about movies."

They find a vase hidden behind some tall mugs. She watches him cut the stems under running water. "You okay?"

He glances at Meredith, who's holding forth on the benefits of new clothing to her daughter. "Yeah. I just ... It's strange to see her here in the middle of everything."

"Everything" means two wheelchairs in the living room, the old one and the motorized one; small orange cones, which were for the obstacle course Rick set up and test-drove the first day they got the motorized chair, and which are therefore a little worse for wear; a folder of care information left by Olga; and a cane propped in the corner (Martha can't walk yet, but she likes to gesture grandly and poke people with it).

"Well, can we get going, Kitten?"

He winces. "You want to go shopping? Now?"

"Goodness, no. Out to dinner! We could go to that place with the singing waiter, you remember? The gnocci were to die for."

Alexis clears her throat. Meredith hesitates, eyes flicking between her ex-husband and the woman at his side. "Do you like Italian, Detective?"

Beckett smiles politely. "Thank you, but I had prior plans. Martha and I are reading together tonight."

"Oh ... that sounds nice ... Richard?"

He musters up a gallant smile. "Singing waiters it is, then. Even if he was a little off-key."

"He was not off-key. He was adorable."

Castle looks heavenward, and then at Beckett. "Sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm sure, but thank you. Have a good time."

"And you too!" Meredith says brightly.

Beckett heads back to Martha's room. Behind her, Meredith collects Rick and Alexis. Once they're gone, Beckett leans against the doorframe and exchanges a glance with Martha, who reads her mind and grumbles, "Loud."

She stifles a smile. "They're out to dinner, so we should have a couple hours of peace and quiet."

"Damn woman. Talked about me like I'm dead."

"You heard that?"

"Like you said. Not deaf."

"I'm sure Alexis will straighten her out."

"Have to. Long as I've known her, Mer never noticed that stuff. Like daffodils, not pansies."

"How long were she and Rick married?"

"Four years."

Beckett thinks that they had probably been well-matched. Both are sort of ditzy. "They must have been an interesting couple."

"Pair of crazy kids. Had Alexis right away. Mer's idea. Should've gotten a puppy instead." Martha rolls her head slowly back and forth on the pillow, smiling a little in memory. "But Richard took to her so. First word was 'Dada.'"

"So Alexis was three or four when Meredith left?"

"Mmm. Wasn't cut out to be a mother. Think she knew it by then. But she didn't work at it much." There's old anger in Martha's eyes. Beckett's surprised by its strength. "Tried later, when they were both older. But I couldn't forgive her for leaving that little girl. And Richard. Poor Richard."

"Was it hard on him?" Beckett asks. She realizes she can count on one hand the times Rick's talked about that period in his life.

"Oh, yes. He and Mer never would've worked in the end. Too different. But he tried. And the way she left—her and that director, not a word until the divorce papers—" Martha catches her breath. "My son's a good man. Good husband, father. But she wanted someone fun. Wanted to always be doing something. Full-time writer, full-time dad—not much time for _fun_, for doing things.

"Tell you something, Kate: nice to have men to flirt with, paint the town red with. But you find a man also sticks around to do everyday things, just likes being around you—that's a keeper." She fixes her eyes on Beckett and enunciates with visible effort, "Any woman recognizes that in a man and lets him go is a fool."

Beckett sucks in a breath.

Martha's gaze is kind but firm. "Now listen here, dear. Got lots of time for people-watching these days. See the way he looks at you, under the twelve-year-old act. Don't think he stays 'cause he needs more inspiration for Nikki Heat, do you?"

"Rick's just ... having fun pretending he's a detective. He's like a kid in a candy store."

"Dear. Having fun 'cause he's with_ you_."

"He—"

"Knows enough to write Nikki without you. He's there 'cause he wouldn't be happy anywhere else. And if you don't let him in eventually, might end up as bad as Mer leaving."

The silence is uncomfortable, broken only by Martha's harsh breathing. The conversation's drained her. But Castle's mother musters the energy to say one more thing. "Mer's a fool. Saw what was in him at the start. But she forgot it. _You_ won't. Just have to make yourself look. If you don't, I'll get out of this bed and smack you myself. Won't have my son's heart broken again. Got it?"

Beckett agrees almost meekly. She's not sure what to say to all that. "Do, ah, do you want to me keep reading?"

Martha settles back and waves a finger majestically. Thoughts roiling, Beckett opens the book again.

An hour later, the Castles return amidst a great rustling of takeout bags. They decided to get their food to go and bring it home to share, Meredith announces. "We couldn't choose, so we got some of everything!"

"Mom's idea," Alexis adds, looking proudly up at her mother.

Meredith beams. "You'll stay and eat with us?"

Rick is asking her the same thing with his eyes. It's him she answers.

"Sure, for a little while."

As she eats, she observes the Castles. It's odd how Meredith fits. She probably deserves every word of Martha's censure, and everyone knows it. But Rick's smile and jokes come easily enough and Alexis snuggles comfortably against her mother's side. For a time they seem like a family unit.

Beckett silently watches from the far end of the couch and considers. Meredith knows both the persona and the man who are Richard Castle. What confounds Beckett is the realization that Meredith left not because of his surface, but because she saw the bedrock underneath.

They're all finished with their pasta, so Beckett makes an excuse and gets ready to leave. Rick follows her to the door. "You could stay a bit longer. We have tiramasu."

"Sorry, I can't. And, uh, I actually won't be able to stop by for a few days."

She can tell he wants to ask why. Maybe he realizes she feels a little weird with Meredith around, because he only says, "Okay. Is there anything you need?"

"No. Thank you."

"All right. I'll see you at work, then?"

"See you at work." Beckett pulls the door open, but he catches her wrist.

"Kate—before you go—" He digs into his pocket with his free hand, presses something into her palm and folds her fingers over it. "For reading nights."

The gift's unnecessary. Someone's always home, especially with the caregiver working here. "Rick—"

"We want you to have it."

It's the _we_ that gets her.

The metal warms to her body temperature during her walk to the elevator. She opens her hand and studies it on the way down.

Castle's given her a key. The symbolism isn't lost on her.

_Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to fairienote, because she finally watched some Firefly. Shiny! _

_Definitely the hardest chapter yet—wouldn't do what I wanted it to do—so concrit appreciated! Kate's still a little in denial about her feelings and is wrestling with reservations (or excuses, depending on your perspective). She's not the type of person to make snap decisions. It may be obvious to all of us and to the other characters that she and Rick are perfect for each other, but it's taking her longer to arrive at that conclusion. Maybe Martha gave her the kick in the pants she needed ..._


	6. Chapter 6: Unasked REVISED

_Author's note 1: I've gotten some great feedback on this chapter that pinpointed a few weak spots. Thanks for leaving constructive criticism, and please enjoy the new version._

The first time it happens is during a hectic day of shopping. They've just hit BCBG and picked up a few cardigans for Martha. Now they're in Barney's. Castle's insisting, "You should go find some more of those ruffly shirts you like. Or maybe something with a zebra pattern."

"Richard, you're enabling me. Why on earth would I need more zebra stripes?" Martha says. Her speech is still slurred, ten months after the stroke, but her laugh is the same.

"You can never have enough striped shirts. They're slimming," Castle says firmly. "Alexis, Kate, back me up here."

Beckett and Alexis exchange smirks and don't answer. Martha sighs at both of them. "Come on, dear. Let's go find me something else that'll blend in on the veldt."

Alexis obligingly grabs the wheelchair's handles from her father and pushes off toward the blouses, weaving her way through other shoppers. As they stroll behind grandmother and granddaughter, Beckett says, "Castle, you know how much you spent in the last store?"

"I do." He sighs, but there's a fond look on his face as he watches Martha roll her eyes at one of Alexis' choices. "My credit card is smoking and I'm missing the football game, but seeing her laugh is worth it. Besides, there's only so many times we can take her to the park or the Met."

"She does love her shopping," Beckett agrees, smiling at him.

He smiles back. His eyes look very blue with the shirt he's wearing. "Thanks for coming today, Kate, really. I know you've probably got better things to do on your day off than traipse around Madison Avenue with us."

She does, but at the moment she can't remember them. "It's been fun, actually. And I found that scarf I've been wanting." She slips away into a corner to examine the stitching on a leather trench coat.

"I know Mother's happy you're here. She likes having you around. We all do." He'd texted her earlier in the week while she was away at a professional development seminar: _Alexis refuses to make spaghetti without you. Hurry back, I'm starving. _And a _Miss you,_ tacked casually onto the end where it would sneak past her defenses.

Kate doesn't answer him. She selects the proper size of jacket, holds it up against herself, and steps over to a mirror. "Think this'll fit?"

Castle moves up behind her. His hands close around her shoulders and he meets her gaze in the mirror. At his expression, she feels a rush of heat go through her body. What Castle's disguised behind years of flirting is plainly visible in his eyes—not simply desire, but something stronger. Slowly, he slides her coat off and reaches around to take the hanger from her, fingers deliberately brushing hers in the process. Just as slowly, Beckett wraps the black leather around herself as he watches. Her heart is racing. She delays to tie the belt before she locks eyes with him again in the mirror.

"It suits you," he says. "It really fits. You fit."

"_I _fit?"

"Yes. You do." He's so close right now, head lowered over her shoulder. "You fit here_, _with us_. _One of the family."

"Oh, now that I've braved Madison Avenue with you on a weekend? Is that a hiring requirement for Team Castle?" She tries for a joking tone.

"That and more." Rick moves his free hand to flatten against her stomach. "You stayed with us all year. Any other person would've left us to fend for ourselves."

Thinking back on the past ten months, she can't argue with that. _A history of loyal behavior. Subject is dangerously committed. _She realizes she's leaning into him, feels both the sharp price tag and his breath against her neck.

"Don't go anywhere, ever," he whispers. "Katharine Beckett."

Kate's eyes pop open. She must have heard that wrong. "Did you just ask me . . . in the middle of_ Barney's_ . . . "

His eyes register surprise, maybe a little chagrin. But he looks steadily back. "Yes."

They stare at each other until Alexis calls them over to give their opinion on Martha's latest frilly shirt. Beckett shucks the coat off and they walk between the clothes racks in silence.

When they catch up with Martha and Alexis, Martha takes one look at their expressions and nods knowingly. _That woman sees far too much. _Martha pulls her son aside for a moment. His face is impassive when she lets him go. Without further comment, he gets behind the wheelchair and steers her toward the checkout lane.

After Rick pays for the purchases, they make for Fred's to eat, Alexis pushing Martha's chair across the wood floor. Rick hangs back.

"Kate—"

"I can't, Castle," she says, and isn't sure whether she means _Talk to you right now _or _Process that thing you just said. _

He lets her go.

* * *

Four days later, it happens again.

_Dinner_, she thinks. _This was supposed to be just dinner._ With the family, no less, but Martha and Alexis are nowhere in sight. _Bet he didn't have to ask Martha twice. Knowing her, she probably suggested this._

Thankfully, no candles are in evidence. If there'd been candlelight, she'd have shot him. But there's just Rick and the chicken parmesan he cooked for her—which is fantastic, incidentally.

She probably shouldn't have come so soon after what had (or had not) happened in Barney's. But no, here she is; here he is. And she doesn't want to leave now that dinner's over. Which is why she is leaving, of course, and why he's trying to convince her to stay for Harrison Ford Action Night. She's admitted to having seen _Raiders of the Lost Ark _only once when she was a kid and now he won't stop extolling its virtues.

"It's a classic moment! The guy's all like _this_ with the sword"—he twirls the newly-rinsed serving spoon in one hand, then pulls an imaginary gun out with the other—"and then kaBLAM!" He holsters the gun. "Come on, you've got to stay for Indy."

Beckett carries her plate over to the sink. "Are you going to behave yourself? Last time you spilled my soda. Down my shirt." She's not entirely convinced it was an accident.

Castle pretends to leer at her. She gives him the Beckett eye roll, but it's mostly for show. He'd had to go out of town to give a lecture series at a university—and wasn't that enjoyable, picturing him holding forth among a group of enraptured coeds. That plus the two-day seminar she'd been at last week adds up to quite a few days without seeing each other. He didn't waste any time inviting her over when he got back.

"Come on, Kate," he says, edging closer and turning that irrepressible twinkle up to stun. "You like me because I'm a scoundrel."

She restrains herself from responding with _I happen to like nice men_ because she knows how that scene ends. "Fine. I'll stay for Indy, because I like Harrison Ford. Satisfied?"

"Very."

The movie's fun. She remembers bits and pieces of it from a slumber party when she was ten; it's nice to see how everything fits together. During one of the expositional scenes, Castle does an elaborate yawn-and-stretch. Kate snorts as his arm lands behind her shoulders.

"What?" he says, playing innocent.

"That's it? That's your move? Really, Castle, you could learn a thing or two from Dr. Jones."

"Oh, you think so?"

"I know so."

Her only warning is the flick of the remote as he mutes the sound. Then he half-twists, gathers her to him, and covers her lips with his. She's gasping a little when he breaks contact.

"How was that?" he asks.

"Ah—respectable."

"Just respectable?" Rick leans in again. "And that?"

"Not too bad, I guess."

He sighs and sits back, arm firmly around her. "You're a hard woman to impress."

"I have high standards."

"I know." Rick's mouth twists a little. "You're not the sort of girl a guy propositions or proposes to in a department store."

The smile slips off her face. _About that..._

He turns to look at her. "Kate, before you say anything—I want you to know that while it was not the proper place or time, I meant what I said. About forever."

_Oh, dear God, he really was serious_. Normal people admit they're friends long before bringing up little things like marriage proposals.

"We would work. Kate, you know I've never made any secret about how I feel about you."

She recalls their first case, when he leaned in close and she could feel his body heat. She remembers the thrill of repaying him in kind at the end of the case. "No. You haven't."

"I haven't gone out with anyone in months. Some of that's because of my mother. A lot of it's you. I look at other women and they don't compare."

Kate can't resist. "You look at other women?"

"Purely aesthetic appreciation," he promises her. "Not one of them has had your intelligence or your compassion. Or your ability to throw me around with one finger. I'd have made a move a long time ago if I hadn't known you'd slam me into a wall."

"Wise."

"I thought so. But I've been reluctant for other reasons." He shifts a little and looks at her, serious. "Picture a man who sees something he likes and commits before he should. It's how his exes rope him in. He gets too infatuated too quickly, wants to jump ahead in the story too soon after he meets these women. He can't see that things won't work long-term with any of them. Once a daughter comes along, that complicates things even more. So after a few rather painful experiences, our protagonist rewrites himself. He won't let himself get hurt again. "

On the screen, Nazis are melting and screaming. Neither of them are paying attention.

"All this—" He swept a hand through the air, indicating Richard Castle, ladies' man—"is a defense mechanism, according to the therapist my mother bribed me into seeing once. Although he also said my relational difficulties were due to maternal—never mind. Anyway, it is a defense. Alexis knows no one's going to try to be her new mom, and I get to enjoy myself, no strings attached."

"But . . . ?"

Rick shrugs. "While casually dating half of New York City is fun, it's like living on cotton candy. With Alexis going off to college soon, and seeing Mother deal with her stroke without a husband to support her—lately that need to commit has been surfacing. I want something permanent. With rings and everything."

She tries to reconcile everything he's just told her. "But you've already been married twice. I thought you were allergic to it."

"Thought I was too. That was before I met you. Kate, I don't want to keep waiting for the rest of my life for you to call and say there's been a murder." He reaches out and traces a finger across her cheek. "There are things I want with you. The newspaper in the morning. Takeout picnics. Embarrassing Alexis by making out in the kitchen. Yelling at kids to get off our lawn when we're eighty."

He pauses. "I know I've sort of asked the question already, and it can't be unasked. So I want to do it right, the way you deserve. Would you be okay with that? Maybe not now, but in the future?"

She's silent for a long moment. "I need time to think that over. Marriage is a huge deal to me."

"Marriage itself or the thought of marrying me?"

"A little of both, to be honest."

"We could go out for a while, if you want."

"I . . . maybe."

Rick looks at her earnestly. "We'd work, Kate. Trust me. You keep me grounded and I make you lighter. Whether we're solving a case or intimidating Alexis' new boyfriend, we do it better together. But I'm not going to rush you—however much you want to give me, however slowly, I'll take." He smiles. "Anyway, since I've been married before, I _might_ be willing to show you the ropes when you decide you're ready."

The moment teeters on the edge of innuendo and emotion in a reassuringly familiar way. "When I'm ready, I might let you know. And you know what I'm ready for right now?" She leans forward.

"What?"

"Star Wars."

After switching the movies, he sits down next to her and drapes his arm around her shoulders again. Beckett settles into him as the Star Destroyer rumbles into view. She tells herself there'll be time later to absorb both his confession and their apparent pre-engagement. But the thought keeps creeping back into her mind.

Richard Castle, notorious womanizer, is_ that_ serious about her. It's terrifying and flattering.

* * *

The third time, it's actually Alexis. They're out for coffee and shopping when the conversation turns.

Alexis isn't usually subtle. It's always clear when she's trying to manipulate her father, mostly because she's manipulating him for his own good and wants him to know it. She's not subtle now either. "So, when are you and my dad going to figure things out?" she asks. Politely, of course. Alexis is always polite.

Caught off guard, Beckett stalls. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you two obviously love each other." Alexis sips the remnants of her hot chocolate serenely.

"Uh, love is a—"

"Strong word, I know." Alexis cocks her head and considers Beckett. She has the same trick her father and grandmother do of seeing too clearly. "You've been around us long enough to know that we all like you, right? We like you a lot. You and Dad have known each other for years; you trust each other; you're good for each other. And after all this business with Gram, it's pretty clear you're not going anywhere. I guess I just don't get it. You're perfect for each other!"

_I am getting advice from a teenage girl on my love life. With her dad. _"It's ... complicated, Alexis. Maybe once you're older you'll understand."

"Pardon my French, but that's _merde_." Alexis looks slightly abashed, but otherwise sounds eerily like her grandmother. "You like each other; you're both single. So ... why is it complicated?"

Beckett hears herself say, "Are you aware your father has sort of proposed to me and also asked me out?"

"I am. And I've encouraged him to keep asking until you say yes to either one." Alexis drains her cocoa and sets the cup down precisely. "I hope you can figure out how to un-complicate things at some point in the next few months. Because you and Dad should stop dancing around things and playing eye tag. It's getting kind of ridiculous."

"Eye tag. Right."

Alexis apparently takes this as agreement. "Great! So it's settled." She beams and gathers up their cups. "I'm gonna go throw these away and find the restroom. Then we can decide what store we're going to next!"

Beckett buries her face in her hands.

* * *

The fourth time is when Castle swings by the precinct and distracts everyone else with strategically placed donuts. While most of the detectives and uniforms are in the break room competing for Bismarcks and crullers, he hands Beckett a season pass to the Met.

"Castle—"

"Whether you want to go with Lanie, or your dad, or alone," he says. "Or with me. I'd like it to be me, but this is yours, no strings attached. So please enjoy it." He winks and heads for the break room.

"What you got there, boss?"

"Nothing." Beckett shoves the pass into the envelope, but Ryan's eyes are too quick.

"The Met, huh? That's a pretty expensive gift. What do you think, Espo?"

"Smells like commitment to me."

She chooses not to engage. "You run down those files yet?"

"On it. Should have them soon."

They work in silence for a few minutes until Esposito comments to Ryan, "So, you coming to the wedding?"

Ryan says without missing a beat, "Castle and Beckett? Wouldn't miss it."

Beckett leaves the room at a dignified pace and calls Lanie down in the morgue. "They're conspiring against me," she moans.

"Sorry, baby," Lanie says. "Listen, are you and Big Rick gonna hook up any time soon? 'Cause I'll be down two hundred in the pool if you don't get something going by next month."

"Lanie!"

"Hey, I'm just saying. And remember, I'll need details when it happens."

"Just . . . let me know when you get prints off that body," Beckett says. She hangs up, sensing Castle approach.

"Don't even think about it," she says.

"About what?"

"Anything."

He pats her back and offers her the donut in his hand. "Rough day?"

"You could say that."

"Can I make you a coffee?"

"God, yes."

"Take you out for dinner?"

" ... No."

He's going to keep trying, isn't he?

_  
Author's note 2: This chapter was incredibly hard to write, which is why it's taken so long to post (and why it is so long; a lot of stuff had to be jammed in here). Many thanks to rocketgirl2 for my first-ever beta—you are awesome!_ :-)


	7. Chapter 7: Silence

The kids are what get her in the end. Beckett holds it together for three days as they match a body with a few witnesses, a name, a family, and at last a killer. She makes herself look those two kids in the eye at the beginning, when she's asking them to look at the sketch, and at the end, when they arrive to pick the guy out of a lineup. She writes up all the paperwork and takes a late lunch in the precinct gym, spending herself blindly against the heavy bag.

Afterward, there's nothing left to do. Beckett's waiting for another murder call and pouring herself a coffee in the break room when the memory of the children's faces rises again in her mind's eye. She sets the mug down carefully and breathes. Ten and fourteen years old; too young for this, but no one is ever ready. And the mother's face—to have her husband ripped away so suddenly, and over a pittance—

"Boss," Esposito says diffidently. "How's the coffee?"

Beckett stares down at the pot and mug in front of her, then moves to allow Esposito access. "It's fine," she says, turning away, and he doesn't push.

Esposito and Ryan know she shuts down a little every year around this time. They're always good about not pushing. She's grateful; all she wants is to do her work, to do a damn good job on every case and nail the killers as soon as possible. _Before_ would be preferable, but she's too much the law-abiding and -enforcing citizen for vigilantism to truly appeal to her, though for a while Frank Miller's Dark Knight was almost more fantasy than refuge.

She wonders where Castle's gotten to.

Ryan ambles by with a plate of cake. "Hey, it's Murphy's birthday and there's cake upstairs. I got some for you. If you want it."

Beckett musters a small but genuine smile for him. "Maybe later, thanks." She pulls out some routine paperwork and bends over it. After ten minutes, she realizes she's read the same paragraph several times. She looks at the clock. 2:47, much too early to go home. Not that she wants to go home.

* * *

After an hour, the silence and the inactivity are too much. She's about ready to jump out of her chair and go back to the gym when Castle appears, followed closely by Montgomery. The two exchange a few words before Montgomery shakes his hand and shoots an unreadable glance at her.

Beckett watches Castle approach and settle into his chair. Esposito and Ryan pretend not to listen as he leans forward.

"You can go home if you want," he says. "You don't have to, but Montgomery suggested it."

Of course Castle knows what day it is. She's tempted to be angry with him—no doubt he raised the subject with Montgomery while shooting the breeze—but she can't take sitting here any longer.

"I think I will," Beckett says, rising and snagging her coat.

Esposito strolls over. "Hey, we're heading out for drinks and burgers in an hour or so. You in?"

"Thank you, Javier," she says quietly. "Another time."

He nods, eyes carefully hooded. "You got it. Take care, boss."

Castle walks her out. "You going to be okay tonight? You could come over if you want."

She nods. "Maybe for a bit."

In the privacy of the elevator, she almost lets herself touch him in reassurance.

* * *

The Castles are all considerate of her, giving her quick hugs and making sure she eats something. Rick, especially, is attentive, attempting to distract her with various conversational gambits and cracking dumb jokes. She tries to smile.

Usually watching the Castle show is something she enjoys. Martha's humor has only been sharpened by her stroke and Alexis doesn't let her dad get away with much. And it's always interesting to see how different Castle can be in private—not different enough to arouse suspicions of schizophrenia, but the influence of his mother and daughter is telling when he's at home. Or maybe it's the fact that he's not the celebrity playing to an audience here. Martha and Alexis do laugh at most of his jokes, but he's only the regular kind of special to them, the kind Johanna was to her.

Seeing that dynamic is too much for her today. She leaves around seven, reassuring them she's fine.

* * *

Her apartment is quiet. That's usually the way she likes it. On other anniversaries, Kate's worked until late at night and gone straight to bed, clutching her mother's ring and listening to the silence.

But she's not tired enough today. Tight knots of emotion pull at her throat, chest, stomach. Even a hot bath and one of her mother's favorite books can't help her unwind.

She sets the Derrick Storm novel down and stares at nothing. Her face crumples after a minute. She rocks back and forth a little, but silently, sending ripples through the bathwater. Even alone, Kate Beckett doesn't cry out loud.

* * *

It's eleven o'clock. She can't sleep and is contemplating the nearly-empty bottle of wine in the fridge. She and Lanie put a sizeable dent in it a week earlier and she hasn't bothered to buy another bottle.

Kate closes the fridge door and glances at the calendar. Tomorrow's Saturday. She and her dad will go visit the grave. They never go on the anniversary; both of them usually to work through the actual day and visit on the following weekend. It's just easier with their schedules.

She picks up her cell phone and wanders out to the living room.

"Hey, Dad."

"Katie. How are you doing?"

"Doing all right. How are you? Did I wake you up?"

"No, you didn't."

They talk for only a few minutes. Their relationship has never been about words; it's been filling out scorecards together at Shea and throwing the ball around and learning the constellations. Tomorrow they will visit Johanna and have lunch mostly in silence.

She considers her book collection, thinks about calling Lanie next or one of her college friends. She rubs a finger against the phone, taps it against a certain key, then holds the key down and lifts the phone to her ear.

"Kate?"

"Hey, Rick."

He waits four seconds before saying, "I'll be over in twenty minutes."

* * *

He's there in fifteen, gym bag slung over his shoulder and a grocery bag in his hand.

"I brought ice cream and hot cocoa. There's some more stuff in here too, whatever I could grab."

She wonders how he knows she doesn't have groceries.

The contents of the bag seem to cover the basic food groups of Casa Castle—bread and sandwich fixings; a plastic container of chicken and pasta; an unopened box of Cocoa Puffs; hickory-smoked bacon; a bag of dark chocolate and a few packets of hot chocolate; two tubs of Ben & Jerry's.

"I'm prescribing ice cream," Rick says, setting the tubs on her kitchen counter next to the bag. "Take one bowl by mouth every two to four hours until supply is depleted."

"That's kind of a lot."

"I have faith in your ice-cream eating abilities." He dishes it out into the bowls she sets out. They go sit on her couch, a foot apart, and eat in comfortable silence. She can feel his eyes on her but for once she's not annoyed.

Rick takes the empty bowls back to the sink and washes them. She dries, feeling oddly domestic. When she's done, she turns and sees him looking at her.

"Castle?" she says.

He reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. There's no pity in his face, just a tenderness that's almost a question. Rick comes over and stands in front of her as if waiting for permission. She gives it to him, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. He pulls her into a loose hug and she buries her face in his threadbare T-shirt, breathes and listens to him breathe.

"That case earlier today ... " Rick says, voice rumbling in his chest.

"Yeah." Kate doesn't want to say anything else. She doesn't have to; his arms tighten around her and he bows his head over hers.

They move back to the couch eventually after he fixes them hot chocolate. This time they're touching, leg to leg and shoulder to shoulder. She puts her empty mug down and he lifts an arm for her to duck under.

They stay like that for a while. Kate can feel herself relaxing slightly. In this place, she feels no pressure to process or to be at a particular stage of grief. The pain never really goes away. Sometimes the only thing she wants is to have someone sit with her and say nothing at all.

"She liked skating," Kate says eventually.

Rick pulls the blanket on the couch onto their laps. "Did you go skating with her?"

"Yeah, she taught me when I was eight. We would go every winter as often as we could. When I was a teenager, I went through a phase where I pretended it was lame, but she knew I liked going with her." Kate smiles slowly and leans back into the crook of his arm. "One time, we were skating in Central Park and these two guys started flirting with us. They thought we were sisters."

"I bet your mom was flattered."

"Oh, she milked it for all it was worth. Tried to get them to buy us hot chocolate. But they were poor grad students, so Mom ended up buying it for us after they bailed."

"That's fantastic," he says. "Did it happen often?"

"Being mistaken for sisters? All the time. We went to Coney Island once and ... "

She tells him stories for an hour. Nothing too exciting, just snapshots of a woman who could lecture on law all day, then come home to don neon leggings and have a dance party with her daughter.

Eventually Kate lapses into silence. The tension inside of her, though still present, is diminished. She hasn't talked about her mother like this in a long time.

"Thank you," Rick says.

She hasn't been looking at him much—their heads are too close together and her eyes keep crossing—but she does now. "For what?"

"For letting me be here."

It sounds backwards. She should be thanking him for coming over. But she sees what he's getting at and stays quiet.

"You didn't need me here. But you wanted me here. That means a lot."

"I trust you."

"With your mother." He studies her.

Castle's always known that she's vulnerable there. For a moment she wonders if she was right to let him in this much. But there's nothing triumphant or opportunistic in his eyes. "You're my friend," she says.

Rick holds her gaze from six inches away. After a long moment he says, "Not just a friend." He grins when she arches an eyebrow at him. "Remember, we're pre-engaged."

Kate smacks him lightly on the chest, half-annoyed at him and half-grateful for the joke. "We are not."

"We are so. Remember, you said yes?"

"I said _maybe_."

"Oh, so you do recall our conversation?"

She remembers the making out that preceded it and flushes a little. "You know what, you're as bad as—"

"As whom?"

"My ... first boyfriend."

"And what was this upstanding gentleman's name?"

Kate winces. "Leroy."

"Leroy?" he repeats. "What was he like?"

"A smart-ass who couldn't keep his mouth shut. My dad hated him, and my mom always said ... " Unbidden, an image of Johanna comes to her, with that familiar line between her eyebrows: _I'm glad you're having fun, Kate, but the boy doesn't read at all! That's a red flag, right there._

"Kate?"

And sure enough, Leroy hadn't worked out. Her mother had provided chocolate, tissues, a movie, and sympathy, all without saying _I told you so._

"I'm fine," she says. "Just tired. It's late; think it's time to go to bed."

She gets up and washes the mugs while he fishes a toothbrush from his gym bag and uses her bathroom. After her turn in the bathroom, she digs around in the linen closet and finds him a pillow. Kate comes back into the living room to hear him on the phone with Alexis.

"And there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge," Castle's saying. "I left you the other credit card, so you can order something tomorrow if you want."

Kate leans against the wall and watches him. He's half-turned away, smiling. "Yes, I _am_ aware that you could steal my identity. But then there would be police involvement and the bank; everything would just get messy. And you know I have connections with the police ... Haha, yes, she would. Yep, I will. Okay, love you t—hmm?"

There's a pause, and then he says, "I don't know, sweetheart. As long as she needs me."

Hearing that, Kate feels the weight of the year after Martha's stroke, and of the things he's been saying lately. Things like _You are not just a friend. _Like _We'd work. _Like _You keep me grounded and I make you lighter._

Rick's standing by the couch looking at her. Kate realizes she's still holding the pillow in her arms. She comes to a decision.

"You coming, Castle?" Her voice is steady.

He's slow in following her into the bedroom. She sits down on her side, close to the lamp and the nightstand, keeps her back to him as he circles around to the other side. He settles carefully onto the bed, weight making the mattress creak. Kate switches the lamp off and slides under the covers. She can tell he's waiting for her to speak first.

"I have nightmares sometimes. Or insomnia. Just so you know. I've never ... " Kate bites her lip. She's never had company on the anniversary, except for the years she's stayed with her father. A year or two ago, Castle would've been the last person she'd pick to be here.

"Kate." He scoots over on his side and looks down at her. It's hard to tell in the semi-dark, but she thinks it's that look from the kitchen again.

"What?"

In answer, he lowers his head and kisses her. His mouth is gentle, undemanding. She pulls him closer and allows herself to get lost in the moment. It's nice. God, it's nice.

Castle's starting to increase the intensity, alternating between her lips and the hollow of her neck. Kate feels herself responding and forces herself to push him away. She can't do this tonight.

"Rick," she says.

He hovers over her for a brief moment. "Okay," Castle says, without a trace of frustration, though he has to be feeling it. He rolls back to his side.

Kate listens to their breathing, harsh in the small bedroom. "I didn't want to give you the wrong impression."

"No, I tend to get ahead of myself. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed."

"It's fine, Castle."

Their breathing slows. Kate stares at the ceiling and wonders if she made the right choice. Then he reaches for her hand and entwines his fingers with hers. The silence grows comfortable again.

She turns on her side, away from him, but tugs on his hand. He scoots over again and curls around her. The last thing she remembers is the solid warmth of him against her back and his thumb rubbing her hand.

* * *

The smell of eggs and bacon wakes her. After freshening up a bit, she makes a beeline for the kitchen.

"Hey," Castle says, shifting the pan on the burner. "I hope you like bacon and cheese in your omelette."

"That sounds fantastic." Beckett comes over and peers down at the eggs.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Well, thanks."

Castle grins and pokes at the eggs. "'Well,' not 'good,' huh? I like you."

"I'd suspected as much."

"With your keen detecting skills?"

"My keen detecting skills detect that you forgot to start the coffee." She adds water and a new filter.

"That instant stuff you drink hardly qualifies. Hey, are you busy today?"

"I'm going to meet my dad around noon. Why?"

Castle snags her with an arm around her waist. "Because I don't have anywhere to be this morning. We could go out for real coffee somewhere. Or—" his eyebrows perform a little dance—"we could just stay here and ... "

She pokes a finger into his solar plexus and extricates herself from his hold. "Or I could handcuff you to the stove and steal your credit card."

"A cop-slash-con artist who wants a cook-slash-love slave. You're the perfect woman. Marry me?" He's teasing her as usual, as if to let her know it's okay if she wants some space this morning.

Kate can't help herself. She leans over and kisses him briefly yet thoroughly, sliding her tongue against his. She turns away to hide a smile at his gobsmacked expression and observes, "Your eggs are burning."

Rick frantically gropes for the spatula, but he's smiling too.

It wasn't a yes. Wasn't a no, either.

_Author's note: I let this one rattle around in my head for a few weeks before attempting it. Wanted it to make sure it felt right, especially after my struggles with the last two chapters. I'm not sure how many more chapters are left since my ideas for the series ended at that kitchen scene. We'll see what else the muse deigns to give me. :-) Enjoy!_


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